


Take the Stage

by Ludella



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrom!Inigo, Gaius!Gerome, M/M, Modern AU, Stripper AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerome knew Inigo danced and that he was sensitive about it. He was fine with not seeing him perform, and he didn't push it.</p><p>On a gift for his eighteenth birthday, he quickly found out why--and wished he hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fancy Meeting You Here

Other fathers gave their sons a beer for their eighteenth birthday. Other fathers took them out to sports games, or to concerts, or something. Other fathers did _nothing at all_ when their sons said they didn’t want to.

 _Other_ fathers didn’t take their child out to strip clubs as a way to celebrate their “coming of age.”

“It’s not like you’re getting laid tonight or anything,” Gaius shrugged, making sure to hold onto the edge of his son’s shirt so he couldn’t escape. “This is a strip club, not a brothel.”

“That doesn’t make this any better, dad.”

“You say that now.”

Gerome grumbled his disapproval, but followed after his father nonetheless. There would only be more trouble if he resisted.

He could distinctly remember the story from one of his best friends of his birthday. Of course, Inigo came from something like a high class family, so it was hard to consider most of the things he did normal to begin with. “My dad’s such a stick in the mud,” he’d said with a sigh, “we didn’t do _anything_. I mean, yeah, I gotta bunch’a money, but that’s nothing new when your family’s top tier Ylissean.” He’d made a horizontal hand gesture to drive the ‘top’ point across, but Gerome only rolled his eyes at how spoiled he could sound at times.

Even then, for being an odd dad, Chrom hadn’t done _this_.

The joint was like no other place Gerome had ever been in before. That being said, he was only ever in his home or outside with pets. Going into any other buildings besides school, the market, or a friend’s home was undesirable if he could prevent it. But _here_ … he’d never felt so out of place before.

It smelled of smoke, sweat, and alcohol, three things Gerome hated more than anything else. The air itself felt like it was tainted with all kinds of perspiration, making it hard to walk through, much less breathe. Gerome easily considered himself a nocturnal person, and for that reason had developed a keen sense of night vision. But that went away with the bright strobe lights flaring right into his eyes wherever he turned, making the place seem even darker when he had no time to adjust. The only things really able to be seen clearly were the stages set up across the building. He had to squint to even see the money in his wallet while his father began paying for drinks--and he had a feeling that was the point.

Gaius led them over to an empty booth by the largest stage where three separate poles were set up with respective women... using them. His face was already burning, and he didn't have his mask to hide it (Gaius has insisted he left it home for the night, only convincing him when coming up with the idea that no one could recognize him without it).

He felt dirty.

The women on stage were shameless, and the only ones moreso were the grubby men throwing money at them. They were nearly nude on stage, wrapping and unwrapping themselves on their poles in such perfect synchronization with the over the top music that out of sexual context, he could see as being somewhat impressive. But Gerome was far too _humiliated_ to be able to appreciate anything. This place was run off of sex. It reeked of arousal, plans for the rest of the night, people slyly ducking around corners illegally. And here he was, an utter virgin with his father.

“Uh, dad…” Gaius looked up as he sat, Gerome standing at the edge of the booth as if refusing to sit.

“What’s up? Not a good view?”

“No. Not a good view at all, it, uh…”

And here came the main reason he had been dreading coming here. The fated encounter he was doomed to have at some point in his life.

“ _This_ isn’t good at all. To me. Girls.”

Gaius blinked up at him, expression unchanging. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?” Gerome took a step back as his father stood up, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him along again. “Your mother would kill me if she knew I was looking at other women, anyways.” The fact they were able to get up and leave was actually quite nice, and Gerome would be thankful if it weren’t for the fact that they were walking deeper into the establishment.

His stomach twisted as they entered the next room.

The setup was the same as the previous with multiple stages lining the room and one small stage in the center. The crowd here was a bit more diverse, he noticed, having a considerable amount of women gathered around as well. There were just enough men to make him uncomfortable before realizing that he was one of them, too. The music was the same, speakers too loud to hear anything besides wild cheering and wolf whistles, lights still flashing in his eyes to the point of only being able to see the back of his father’s figure as he guided him inside.

The only difference was the performers--all male.

“I know shit about this stuff,” Gaius admitted, shouting a little so his son could hear him, “so why don’t you take your pick?”

Gerome swallowed hard at the proposition. As if even being here with his father wasn’t humiliating enough, then confessing he was gay, and now he had to suddenly pick out his _type_? He wasn’t completely innocent in having never had a single sexual thought--he was a teenage boy, after all. But this… was too much.

He figured it’d be fine if he picked any random guy and just sat there for a while, long enough until his father had had it and they were able to finally leave and go home and he could forget this ever hap--

His mouth went dry as his eyes crossed one of the stages. One of the men there looked oddly familiar, and not in the good way. In a way the resemblance he had to one of his _friends_ \--and he had few--was almost funny if it wasn’t disgusting. Perhaps it was the hair that reminded him of his best friend, seeing as with a glance to the rest of his body (his very, very, very bare body) he figured the possibility was as good as nonexistent.

Gaius interrupted his line of sight, ducking his head in front of Gerome’s face with a glance over his shoulder. “That way, I take it?”

“What? No, wait--”

“C’mon, big boy, let’s get this party started.” Gaius was dragging him over to the platform before he could do anything to stop him. Of all the ones to pick, it had to be the one guy that looked just similar enough to somebody he knew to make it uncomfortable…

They had to squeeze to make it into a table, especially since it seemed the largest crowd was around this area in particular.

Gaius whistled at all the people throwing out bills under the man’s shiny black heeled boots. “Looks like you’ve got good taste, Geronimo.” It was even worse knowing he only said so without agreeing.

With more shame in his heart than his entire life’s worth combined, Gerome finally lifted his eyes to the man on the stage.

Like all the others here, the clothes he was wearing were all but scraps. He was wearing black leather shorts, if they could even be called that--it was more like an incredibly thick belt with just how high they rode up. Gerome felt his face heat up even more when he noticed a slight bulge in the front, not necessarily from arousal as much as the tightness of the clothing outlining every piece of his body. He wasn’t wearing a shirt as much as a very (very) low cut and open vest, stopping right at his waist and only closing an inch above that. Since it was sleeveless, Gerome was able to get just a good look at his toned shoulders and… shoulder blades… and the muscles on his back flexing when he moved his arms…

He could feel his father’s stare on him and quickly coughed, hiding behind his hand. This was the worst way to be coming out to his father.

The dancer was super into his performance, though, to the point where he barely seemed to even be looking at the crowd most of the time. Just a glance around at the other performers told Gerome that this one was more… focused, in a way. As if he was doing more than just helping a bunch of horny young women and old men get off. It was somewhat respectable, though all thoughts fled from his mind as soon as he actually started watching him again.

Despite being focused on dancing, the boy knew this was entirely sexual.

He made sure everyone else did too.

His entire show, the man’s hips never stopped moving except when he swung a long, thigh-high black heel clad leg around the pole and gave a twirl. Gerome wish he knew enough about dance to even describe what he was doing, but felt knowing more about sex would provide better context for the way he was able to drag his movements in one way, gliding the next, and have it work remarkably well.

At one point the man turned, crouching down before his head snapped back up, ass out as he dragged himself back up the pole. Gerome had nearly gasped at how erotic he appeared with his legs spread out like so. Like he was seeing something he shouldn’t be. But at the same time, it was also… thrilling. He couldn’t describe why it was or even exactly _what_ it was about the event that had Gerome’s heart pounding and face sweating. He’d nearly forgotten all about whoever the man had at first resembled; that part didn’t even matter anymore.

Still, he remained composed, determined not to show an ounce of emotion on his face as he knew his father was watching him. The man on stage grabbed the pole behind his head, giving one of his rare glances to the crowd as he deliberately rolled his body to earn a round of applause from the audience.

That’s what it was; Gerome had finally put his finger on it.

This boy knew he was being objectified, oogled, and utterly sexualized and seen as nothing more by the people watching.

And he was enjoying it.

Gerome held his breath as the performer climbed his way back up to the top of the pole, making a couple long shows of spread his legs and rocking his hips against the rod. In an unexpected turn, he threw his head back, the rest of his body following with his legs still wrapped around the pole, and slid down easily.

He gave the crowd a winning smile upside down as they cheered, money piling onto the stage.

Gaius was moving without Gerome noticing, and before the latter could do anything to stop him, his father gave a loud whistle of appreciation on his son’s behalf.

It was just enough for the stripper to glance over towards them.

And for Gerome to notice the tell-tale Ylissean crest in his dark eyes.

He had been right.

Gerome quickly stood from his seat as he saw the stripper’s face fall, not listening to his father behind him.

He had been right.

He left the building without a word to anyone and Gaius following after him.

He had been right.

Upon sitting in the car, he silently put his head in his hands. Gaius didn’t speak to him the entire way home, leaving the teen to his thoughts.

Gerome had been right, and his best friend was a stripper.


	2. Distance

Gaius went ahead and made up a lie to Cherche for the both of them, saying something like taking Gerome to play poker with a couple of friends. It explained the loss of money and smell of sweat and booze they were carrying, too thick to even breathe through. Gerome immediately stripped himself of all clothing as soon as he was in his room and had the door locked, kicking them aside to the other end of the room. He lifted his wrist to his face to sniff--he could still smell it.

He was in the shower before anyone could disturb him. The hot water did little to ease his nerves, but at least he could get the wretched scent of that place off of him. It was amazing how long it took to process events that took place so quickly, and how much had been able to change within the span of just an hour. It'd take days to fully process, maybe even weeks if he didn't want to believe it and, naturally, he didn't. He couldn't imagine anyone being comfortable discovering their friend was doing such... _things_.

A sudden image of that stripper's-- _Inigo_ 's face upon seeing him flashed through his head.

With a groan, Gerome slammed his forehead against the shower wall.

Why did this have to happen?

Surprisingly, Cherche didn't pester him on how his night was the next morning (he assumed Gaius must have told her not to). She lingered close, though, available to hand him books while he packed for school and reminding him of plans forgotten in the muddle of last night. She was concerned, he could tell. If only there was a simple way to explain the feeling of being dragged to a strip club, coming out to his father, and discovering his best friend was a pole dancer all in one night. She'd likely have his head after the first point alone--and his father's, too.

"Don't forget extra classes tonight!" Cherche called as he opened the door, only receiving a half-hearted grunt for a reply to show he had heard her. Gerome had never needed his mother reminding him of half the things she did, but suddenly he found himself unable to recall all of the plans he had set for this week. It was no wonder, either, with how clouded his mind was with everything. But he was sure he had all of his school work, seeing as he worked more on a cycle when it came to academics, and thus didn't have to really worry about much else for the rest of the day.

School would be a welcome relief from his own cluttered thoughts, to get back into some kind of cycle of methodical thinking he could run off of for eight or so hours.

But nothing was ever that easy.

"Gerome!"

He cringed at the voice, immediately recognizing it. A brief glance over his shoulder at the figure running towards him before the herd of students piling into school confirmed it.

Inigo.

Walking a bit faster.

"Gerome, wait up!"

Walking even faster, now.

"C'mon, Gerome, you're not answering any of my calls or texts or anything--hey, come on!"

Gerome was full on sprinting at this point, encouraged forward by the sound of somebody running right behind him. It was too early in the day for this--and he most definitely didn't want this confrontation now. Or ever, really.

He didn't stop until he made it to the school, sending another glance over his back to make sure he wasn't being followed. There was no Inigo in sight, but he'd earned a couple of odd looks from the students. Gerome adjusted his mask back into place and continued inside as if nothing had happened. And as far as he was concerned, nothing had.

At the beginning of the year, they had been dismayed to find out they were in mostly separate classes. In fact, their entire schedules were different besides lunch, where they usually hung out with the rest of their friends.

Gerome had never been more thankful for the space than now. A few of their other friends shared classes with him, but as long as they didn't know what was going on, he had no problem sitting with Owain and Noire all day.

All day became two days. And two to three, before three was all week.

By the end of the second week, Gerome had managed to avoid contact with even them, always dodging to the other side of the hall fast enough to keep from interaction. The fact he was able to ignore Severa's pestering alone was a miracle, much less being able to expertly dodge Owain's antics and... whatever else it was that boy did, they were never really sure.

He should've known he could only go so long without interaction.

"Gerome? Gerome, are you up here?"

"No, Kjelle; now leave me be."

He heard the girl's feet shuffle on the concrete floor of the rooftop, but made no move to provide a better answer. Gerome wasn't entirely antisocial, and actually quite enjoyed the friends that he had, even if he didn't show it that well. On the other hand, the idea of having to be within yards of Inigo after what had happened... he quickly perished the thought. It was unacceptable.

"Gerome," Kjelle repeated in a sterner voice, head tilted back to look up at the elevated platform of the roof Gerome was relaxing on top of, "I don't know what happened between you and Inigo, but you ought to fix it quick."

"That's our business and not yours."

"And it's about to become Lucina's if she never hears why her brother is so down all of a sudden."

He felt his mouth twitch. That was an entirely different situation--Lucina was someone he didn't want--nay, couldn't _survive_ past making angry. And she had always been particularly protective of her little brother...

"Just give me some time to myself. Tell her I'm with a teacher."

"As you have been for the past two weeks..." she sighed, but began walking back to the door anyways. He waited to hear the knob turn. "Just... fix whatever's going on, okay? Inigo's honestly upset, he's acting like a sad puppy without you."

'Like it matters to me,' he held his tongue to keep from saying, waiting for the click of the door closing before letting out a sigh. A sad puppy, huh? That suited him, if he could only get the image of that night out of his head long enough to imagine it. As soon as he thought of it, the memories of the night came crashing back. The loud music, the smell of smoke and sweat, a sea of older faces, crumpled bills being stepped on by long black heels, that _Inigo_.

With a groan, he rolled onto his side to shield his eyes from the sunlight. This couldn't go on forever; even he knew that. He had to do something eventually.

And yet somehow, that whole 'doing something' part had ended up with Gerome standing before the one location he was now positive he loathed more than anything a week later, still smelling of smoke, and still shady as ever.

As Inigo had finally stopped trying to text him, there was only one thing to do--contact him first.


	3. Iggy Indigo

Without his father here to rush him in, he had a better chance to evaluate the building.

A neon sign was propped up a couple yards above the doorway, the logo between two lines he assumed were poles with a couple of the letters entwined around them. Compared to other joints he had seen while driving around, he had to admit--this place looked cleaner than most. And with the condition it was in, that was really saying something. The brick walls of the building looked rundown and worn away, and if he didn't know any better, he'd assume they'd taken a couple hittings from a hammer or a few bullets with the large dents in a couple of them.

Then again, that could very well be the case.

He shuddered, passing the thought by as he entered the building.

A couple of crisp bills and a flash of his ID (only removing his mask briefly) had Gerome walking into the same Hell that had been haunting him the past few weeks. The loud bass churned his stomach with every beat until he was sure he'd be sick and was suddenly grateful he hadn't bothered trying to eat dinner before coming out. A bit of relief came when he realized the music wasn't as loud this time, and he could somehow manage to hear himself think

He had refused to come without his mask this time, taking the risk of somebody recognizing him over having his emotions be read more easily without. Even so, Gerome couldn't recognize a single face in the room, only older men hollering at the women on stage and performers he had a feeling were too young to hold this type of job.

But none of that was any reason he was here. Gerome briskly walked across the large room, recalling his footsteps from the last time his father had dragged him through. If he turned here, and walked right through there...

His chest twisted painfully. The men's area, elegantly titled the "Doggy Den" with largely written D's at the beginning of every word similar to the women's "Pussy Playtown" with pronounced P's.

Now that he wasn't under the critical eye of his father, Gerome let his eye wander around the room. None of the men were particularly his type, though he wasn't sure he even had a type yet. Whatever it was, the larger, burlier men with entire bushes of hair sticking out from every seam of their clothes weren't that appealing. At all, really.

There was only one person here who resembled anything close to what he considered attractive, and sadly, it was who he came here to see. By all means Gerome wanted to deny any semblance of attraction or even _admiration_ for somebody like him, but the fact still stood that of all the men present the last time he had come here, only one caught his attention. It was shameful, but every bit true.

He was at the same stage as last time, and Gerome only just then realized he was grateful the other was even working at all tonight. He didn’t have any clue when his schedule was, but he figured going on the same night that he’d attended last was as good a bet as any. With a bit more determination this time, Gerome made his way through the crowd and over to the same stage as before.

He didn’t bother to grab a seat this time, as he figured he would be leaving soon enough anyways. It wasn’t as if he was here for an actual show, or anything, unlike all the other sweaty bodies pushing and shoving against him. Nobody was on the stage just yet, unfortunately, giving him time to wait it out.

This time, he was able to pay better attention to everything around without having to worry about the eyes of his father watching his every move. As expected, his friend had yet again attracted the greatest crowd in the joint, and it was only then that Gerome noticed a small frame on the edge of the stage that allowed for slips of paper to be slid in and out of for labelling.

**Iggy Indigo.**

A series of loud, shrill whistles brought Gerome from his thoughts, and as he noticed somebody walking up onto the stage, he quickly dissolved back into the end of the crowd as to not be seen.

His heart jumped as he recognized the boy on stage.

Inigo.

Then again, this is what he had come here for. He wanted to meet with him and see him again. And he was definitely seeing him… a lot of him. His outfit was much trashier today, he couldn’t help but notice; crude, bright red leather shorts and an incredibly small matching top that nearly looked like a bra at first glance. Instead of high boots, he was wearing vibrant red heels to match, an incredibly bright grin topping everything off.

The crowd surrounding was going wild, chanting the name he had caught on the label like a mantra as Inigo sauntered around the small platform. He couldn’t help the heat that rose to his face instantly; no matter how he had tried to prepare himself, there wasn’t any way to describe the feeling of seeing his friend like… _this_.

But he wasn’t giving up now. Gerome crossed his arms and waited, trying to keep his eyes focused solely on Inigo’s face and nothing else. Naturally it was difficult with how the other was doing everything to keep people from concentrating on just one part of his body, letting everything out for show. He had passed Inigo accidentally a few times at school, and each time it was even harder to believe that this could be the same awkward boy that was so terrible at hitting on girls every chance he got.

His mind flashed back to the label; ‘Iggy Indigo,’ huh… he supposed it really was a different person. Or at least another persona, of the sort.

When he finally had enough, Gerome lifted his hand to his mouth, blowing over his pinched fingers as hard as he could to mimic his father. Technically, Gaius had learned the whistle from Cherche as a call for Minerva, but started using it everywhere, thus the habit stuck. More importantly, it was the same call he’d made in appreciation of Inigo the last time they visited.

It was a long shot, but he was trying. The less time he was in here, the better.

Much to his surprise, the man on stage lost concentration for a mere moment. And it was just long enough to meet his eye.

Gerome turned on heel immediately, not taking another moment to watch his reaction; he knew Inigo had seen him, and that’s all he needed to make sure of. With the offer laid out, everything was in the other’s hands now--and thankfully out of his.

He left the building without another look towards anyone else, eager to be out and into the fresh air again. It was colder out tonight than it had been the last time was here, causing him to shiver as soon as he felt the night air.

If anything, he was expecting to get some sort of notification on his phone later that night. Inigo had given up texting him recently, but he’d made the resolve that if he tried tonight, he’d respond. If it was any later… he could make no promises.

Gerome was just about to climb into his car when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

"Gerome!" He turned just in time to see Inigo sprinting his way, wrapped in a silky white robe that barely covered his thighs. "Gerome, wait, just let me talk!"

He didn't say anything but climbed into the back seat, leaving the doors unlocked. Acknowledging the gesture, Inigo made to join him in the back as calmly as he could. Even so, Gerome kept his head facing forward, refusing to even look his way despite the intent stare Inigo was giving.

"Gerome..."

"You said talk. So talk."

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of Inigo's mouth, admittedly catching Gerome off guard. He'd been expecting an immediate list of excuses, instead. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, and it made you... disgusted, I guess."

Inigo had his eyes fixated on the other's face, searching for some sign of emotion to go off of. With their parents' closeness, they had all been friends since infancy, which included long before Gerome began wearing his mask. If anyone was able to read his emotions under it, it was Inigo which was currently quite--unfortunate.

Gerome nearly spoke, but stopped himself before he could even open his mouth. What had he been about to say--no, he wasn't disgusted? It didn't feel gross to watch and, if anything, hadn't been bad at all to the extent of being something close to g--

"But you've gotta' stop ignoring me like this," Inigo interrupted his thoughts, "we're best friends. I know it's weird and all but--"

"Why do you do it?"

"What?"

Gerome finally turned to look at Inigo as he spoke, the flinch on the latter's face at his harsh glare not going unnoticed. "Why do you work here? You aren't poor. I can't imagine your parents would enjoy knowing you do something like this."

"No... my father wouldn't," Inigo agreed, leaving the statement open to continue. He was becoming visibly less confident the more he spoke, but his eyes never left Gerome's face. "But my mother doesn't mind. She understands it's for dancing--"

"Dancing?" Gerome raised his voice higher than intended, though by no means tried to lower it. "You're working in a whorehouse to dance?"

"It's not a _whorehouse_!"

"It's not a workshop either, Inigo! People don't work in strip clubs to practice ballet, and people don't come to admire fine arts!" Once he had started, it was difficult to stop. There was no doubt with how loudly they were shouting back and forth that anyone in the parking lot would have been able to hear them, but Gerome paid no mind. It was none of their business, anyways. "People come here to pay money for sex--no one comes to admire your talent, they just want to _objectify_ you."

Inigo's brows furrowed together. No longer worried about what Gerome was thinking, he leaned toward him provocatively. "What, like _you_ did?"

The surprise only showed on Gerome's face for a mere second before dissolving back into a furious scowl. "Like I _what_?!"

Inigo didn't say a word. Instead, a hand sprang from his lap and into Gerome's, unceremoniously grabbing at where his pants were crudely tented. And finding something to hold onto, at that.

Silence fell between them as Gerome couldn't come up with a single word for himself. It'd help if he even had an idea of what to say, if he should be apologizing, explaining, or defending himself in any way. But instead of actually communicating anything, his mouth was left hanging open, unable to form a word in shock.

Only then did Gerome get a better look at Inigo in the robe he was wearing and how not well it was doing at hiding anything when he was leaning towards him. Like this, the front was almost completely open, giving a good view of his collar bones and the slick, tight red uniform beneath. And if he shifted his gaze a bit lower, it was hard not to notice his long, bare legs spread over his back seats...

Inigo never broke eye contact as he spoke.

"You're gay."

All he could do was nod. It's not like there was anything he could do to prove him wrong, not when the hard ( _painfully_ hard) evidence was right before him.

He would've done anything to wipe the grin off of Inigo's face, and even worse was when the boy actually started _laughing_.

"You... what do you think you're laughing at?!"

"You, you massive idiot!" Inigo sputtered out between giggles, finally retracting his hand and leaning back in his seat. Gerome was close to simply kicking him out of his car right then and there. "You're unbelievable!"

"Says the male stripper."

"Hey, at least _I'm_ getting paid," Inigo scoffed, though the smile didn't leave his face. "But this means we both know each other's big secrets, right? Let's truce, and just be friends again."

Their conversation had certainly taken more than one turn in the course of a few minutes. With their clashing personalities, they naturally butted heads more often than not, but miraculously always came back to being friends. That probably came with being childhood friends, and all... And this was just the same as how things usually were, Inigo being his same dimwitted self.

Gerome squinted critically. This boy in front of him, wearing a white robe to cover an indecent dancing outfit he'd end up stripping most off anyways, it was really his best friend. Was he really that different...?

"Fine... but only if you stop keeping secrets from me; I don't want to find anything else out like this."

"It was one thing, this is all!" Inigo huffed indignantly. He supposed that meant they were back to normal again... which was good. Gerome was better at dealing with Inigo's regular obstinance than him actually being upset. He watched as the other turned in his seat and grabbed for the door handle--

"Where are you going?" he asked curiously.

Inigo's hand paused on the door as he sent a confused look back at Gerome. "Back to work? You interrupted the middle of my shift, you know. I'm still on for tonight if I don't want my coworkers getting mad at me."

Gerome fell quiet. "Oh... yeah." He hadn't intended to pull Inigo down in the middle of work--well, yeah he had, mostly because he still wasn't too keen on the idea of someone actually stripping as a serious job. It wasn't a real career at all, so he hadn't seen any issue with interrupting... but Inigo was still taking it seriously. He would go back inside this shady joint, climb back up on stage, and spend the night removing his clothes for others' entertainment.

The click of the door opening brought him back from his thoughts just as Inigo hopped out of the car. He turned with the door in hand to send Gerome a winning smile. "I'll see you at school, Gerome?"

There was something surreal about him bringing up school of all things while they were in... this situation, and he was dressed like that. The idea of seeing him in that school environment was somehow off-putting. "Yeah--I'll see you there."

With a simple wave over his shoulder, Inigo slammed the door shut, rushing off to the back of the building he had originally run out of. He left Gerome in the back seat by himself, with only his thoughts to keep him company. It didn't help that they were all of Inigo and trying to figure out why the idea of him going back to work in there was so... irritating.

“Iggy Indigo, huh…” 


	4. Every Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry it's been so long!

Gerome had to appreciate their friends' tact afterwards. As he began joining in lunch together or hanging out again, only a few words were said of his disappearance and left at that. He assumed that everyone just knew that something had been happening, and his talk with Kjelle probably did well to help lighten the blow. If anything, the most bothersome was Noire who was at his side almost every minute of class making sure he was alright, bringing him notes he already had, lunch, everything. He'd dismissed her quietly and prevented any kind of scene.

"He~ey, Gerome!"

And there was that all too familiar voice pestering him once again. Gerome only spared a glance away from the book in his hand as Inigo entered the classroom. That guy always had to make some kind of entrance, didn't he...

"Gerome, buddy! You already had class with Basilio today, right? If so, do you think--"

"I'm not letting you copy my homework, Inigo."

"Well, screw you too! This is intelligent-ism, the prejudice of smart people against dumber..."

Inigo's prattling faded into the background as Gerome allowed himself to sit back in his thoughts again. He was used to having him rambling as a sort of comfortable white noise at all times, to the point where silence became even more uncomfortable despite how he relished in it at home.

The day after their last encounter at Inigo's workplace, the latter was immediately at his side once again. The sudden transition was a little quick, more so than Gerome preferred, but knew exactly what Inigo was doing; the less serious talk and time spent without being friends, the more time both of them had to doubt themselves. And the longer Gerome had to change his mind.

In its own way, this was nice too. He still had questions, inevitably, but as long as they were friends again, those could afford to sit on the back burner. Especially since he had something else taking up space in his mind.

"Gerooome!" Inigo whined loudly, slamming his hands on Gerome's desk and leaning closer. "Come on! I'll change some of the answers, no one will ever know!"

The boy looked absolutely desperate with his puppy eyes (which secretly worked) on full force. He fell to his elbows instead and slid further across the desk to provoke him, Gerome's book long forgotten by now. Inigo really was such a slob, his tie hanging loosely by his neck his shirt not fully buttoned and... the arch of his back across the desk... and light skin of his ne--

"Fine, fine!" Gerome stopped himself from thinking further and reached for his bag to slam a couple papers on the table. "Take it and just--leave me alone!"

Inigo let out a loud laugh, immediately extracting himself from the desk. "Thanks, man! I'll treat you later, let's go out after school!"

"Don't care."

And yet a few hours later, he was at Inigo's side in the city being dragged from place to place. This was how things always went, Inigo wanting to do something, Gerome refusing and somehow ending up present anyways. Inigo would tease him on it, poke a bit of fun at him before shutting up and enjoying their time for what it was. Usually it was for things like picking up girls (which now seemed repulsive) or going to arcades (a bad idea, since they always ended up fighting).

It wasn't often he was being treated. Gerome wasn't sure what he had been expecting when Inigo finally stopped in front of a tame, muted coffee shop (cliche, which naturally suited Inigo). They had been here before, a small stop on the way to both of their homes when the two teenagers could afford to spare a few bucks. It was small enough that they'd kept it to themselves, not particularly keeping a secret, but not inviting anybody else as well.

In a mock gesture of politeness, Inigo held the door open for Gerome to enter first, not noticing the twitch of his hand at the playful act. Gerome held his tongue as they walked to the counter where a small line had already formed.

"It's been a while since we came here!" Inigo mused aloud behind him. He couldn't quite tell if the other had said so to make a passive aggressive remark about the time they had spent separated due to his own emotions or if Gerome was simply over analyzing things. Likely the latter, seeing as Inigo wasn't clever enough to pull off being aggravated without being blatantly obvious. "Do you think they have anything n--ooh!"

Gerome followed Inigo's surprised eye to the cabinet. Even though he had cut himself off as to not let anyone suspect anything, he was just as obvious as ever, eye completely caught on the image of a brightly decorated cake in the glass case. The frosting was done up elegantly in a way one might expect a wedding cake would look like if smaller, with loud pink and yellow accents.

He had to admit, it was a pretty looking cake. Gerome himself wasn't into sweets anymore than the next guy, but he could understand the appeal--as well as Inigo's nearly salivating mouth hung open in pure lust. Right... he never had the chance to eat anything sweet in the first place, not when this guy was here to take it all before him, going so far as to even steal his treats when they were younger.

It only took a pair of girls entering the shop to make him shut his mouth and turn away.

"Hey, those notes you gave me earlier today were wrong."

"I know. I changed them before you came by."

"What--that's too cruel!"

Inigo continued to bicker all the way to the front of the line where an employee was waiting to take their order. Gerome immediately took note of Inigo's eyes darting about the entire store, brows furrowing as he scanned through the case one more time before giving a last glance at the female students behind them.

"Sir?" the cashier repeated, empty eyes on Inigo.

"...just coffee. Uh, black."

So that's how this was.

Gerome sighed as he stepped forward, lightly pushing Inigo aside. "And a slice of cake. For me."

He tried his best to ignore the shimmer in Inigo's eye as soon as the words left his mouth as well as the quiet giggle of the girls approaching. Even though Inigo stepped up to pay, Gerome hardly felt like he was being treated at all.

The cashier didn't say another word as they set their order on the counter after Inigo paid, Gerome picking both cup and plate up himself and finding a table with Inigo following fast after him. The latter's face only lightened up when he saw Gerome place the cake at his spot and keep the cup for himself.

"Gerome--!"

"You can't drink coffee without a cup of sugar," he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. Bitter. Way too much. He actually preferred some amount of cream just to lighten the taste, but he could drink black if he had to. Typical Inigo to try and choose the most "manly" drink on the board.

When Gerome looked up at him, Inigo had already dug into the cake, already a third of the way finished. All his shame in enjoying something so foo-fooey had completely disappeared as soon as they sat down, as if no one could see them now that they were seated. Gerome wouldn't say anything; with how utterly delighted Inigo appeared at the moment, ruining his fun would be a sin. He was grinning brighter than when Gerome had handed him his notes--and that said a lot.

"You know..." Gerome eyes snapped up to meet Inigo's, unaware he had been focusing on his lips until they spoke. "I didn't really get to say it, but thanks, Gerome."

"I'm used to it, by now."

"Not that." Inigo glanced around the room briefly before looking back at Gerome, cheeks slightly pink. "My secret."

"Oh." Ever since then, neither had dared to bring the topic back up--for both of their sakes. While Inigo had made it clear that he wasn't particularly ashamed of his job or what he did, it was more for Gerome's sake that they never spoke of it. Even just the brief memory that was brought back up with the topic made him freeze.

Inigo gave him a small smile, less flashy and yet somehow more charming. "Of course I wouldn't dare share yours, either."

"Of course not; I know you're better than that," Gerome nodded in agreement. As petty as their arguments could get, there were certain boundaries both knew should never be crossed. This was just another. Then again, Gerome had a feeling his secret wasn't exclusive to himself.

Without noticing, Inigo lowered his head a bit, eyes lost somewhere on the table. He kept his fork in hand as if intending to continue eating but never lifting it. "Yeah... you do. It's great that we're friends, huh?"

Gerome felt his chest tighten, but he nodded on impulse to agree nonverbally. Inigo laughed again, obviously just filling in the silence. It didn't last before they were both quiet again with only the sound of the bustling cafe between them. Despite all the chatter and sound of traffic from the outside, Gerome couldn't hear anything over his own busy thoughts.

What was he even thinking about? Things should be fine now. Everything was okay between them, their secrets were safe, everything was going just fine. And even so... he glanced back up. Inigo had already finished eating by now but was childishly picking at leftover icing on the plate, gathering as much on his fork as he could. He certainly didn't seem as uncomfortable as he sounded a minute ago, as if now completely concentrated on his dishes more than anything. He always had a one-track mind, for better or for worse. It was probably better, actually, seeing as Inigo was so determined when he actually wanted something. It just meant Gerome would always have to look after him and all the things he couldn't focus o--

"Gerome? Are you alright?"

Oh god, he was _pining_.

"I, uh..." The genuinely confused look on Inigo's face sent a pang of guilt through his chest. As if he could help his own emotions, much less this guy's! Gerome stood from the table, his chair scooting out with a loud groan. "I--think I'm going to go home... there's a lot of homework tonight, so..."

And Inigo was still looking up at him with that concerned face.

It had never hurt to tell a lie so badly. Gerome heaved a sigh and relaxed his shoulders. "Want to work on it together at my place?"

Inigo's chair flew out from behind him as he jumped up. "That's more like it! You almost scared me!"

Of course, the working together part would be forgotten as soon as they sat back down in Gerome's room. He'd end up writing two different reports for the two of them while Inigo sat on the floor, head against the back of the chair Gerome sat in, and playing enough video games for the two of them. It's how this always worked, but he supposed it was better than working alone.

He couldn't think of a time Inigo had actually done any work for him. Small favors here and there, sure, but between the homework, the "treating" him to a snack, and just about everything else... well, he didn't do much.

A loud laugh from the boy in question caught him off guard, Gerome turning in his seat to look back at him. Some scene from a game Gerome had already beaten was on the screen, and was apparently funny enough to have Inigo still snickering moments after. Gerome could tell Inigo knew he was being watched and tried to force himself to be quiet, though he couldn't hold back a grin that last a few more minutes.

Gerome couldn't help but smile as well.

What a fucking idiot. But at least that was something he was good at.

And anyway, it didn't really matter if Inigo was of any tangible benefit to him. He caused a lot of trouble, but... in the end, they were best friends. Gerome quite honestly wouldn't trade him for the world...

* * *

 

...is, at least, what he thought. Gerome stared down, for so long now his neck may hurt in the morning.

His undone pants around his ankles kept him from getting up and screaming bloody murder, running Inigo down until he could tear him apart himself.

It couldn't be.

Desperate, Gerome grabbed at his dick with both hands clumsily, making for any and all movement he possibly could for something. Something, anything, any reaction at all.

And yet nothing came.

The screen before him continued despite his inability to do anything with it, on some trashy compilation of men being done with their knees up to their shoulders. It was by all means what should be getting a reaction from him--it always had in the past. He let go of himself for a minute to slam his hand down on his mouse, changing the video to the first thing he saw in the 'recommended' tab. It played immediately; different camera quality, different actors, no music, different position... and his same limp dick.

The frustration was almost enough to make him cry, especially knowing exactly why things had turned out like this. And god, did he want to stay in denial for just a little longer.

Without another care in the world, Gerome quickly zipped himself back up without trouble, stuffing his phone and keys into his pocket before stomping out of his room and then the house, slamming every door shut behind him.

It was humiliating. Downright embarrassing, shameful, and he felt horrible. For his own body to betray him? In favor of something else? He yanked the car door shut so tightly the vehicle rocked back and forth. It probably wasn't smart for him to drive in the mood he was in, making quick turns and running a few lights out of pure anger alone.

He hated this.

And he hated the trashy neon signs of the same strip joint he found himself in front of for the third time.


	5. Settle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this isn't late  
> did you know this was supposed to be 2k words??
> 
> if this seems sloppy it's because i literally wrote this without looking over it and threw it online

Today was... different to say the least. Gerome didn't know much about strip clubs, not anything about how they functioned or how routines went--and he didn't want to find out. This wasn’t a place he'd like to frequent if he could prevent it. 

Everything in the main rooms appeared just as usual which, in his case, was "not," seeing as he tried to ignore the women as much as possible. He wasn't particularly repulsed by them but something about watching women take their clothes off made him feel... guilty. Even if he wasn't benefiting from it.

He quickly made his way over to the men's area.

Having been here twice now, he at the very least remembered where Inigo's station was to the far side. His stage was one of the larger, and while earlier he assumed it was because he was more popular, it was now apparent that he shared the stage with two other men. One performed separately to the right side of the stage, while the other was with Inigo in the middle for a… joint performance.

Gerome’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. The man behind Inigo was no doubt older, with much tanner skin and an eyepatch which he couldn’t tell whether or not was part of the costume. Not that it would match anyways; tonight they were dressed as police officers, which Gerome couldn’t help feeling second hand embarrassment about.  _ Original _ this place wasn’t. He could only assume the type of audience Inigo attracted specifically due to his different costume, having smaller pants that came up to his knees rather than ankles as the other men had.

The man Inigo was with--Gerome glanced at the removable nameplate to the left side of the stage; “Bullseye”--was certainly… handsy. He had tight hands gripping Inigo’s hips from behind, their bodies practically molded together as they moved with the music. Gerome couldn’t help but grimace; they weren’t doing anything besides dancing, so why did Inigo keep throwing his head back like he was experiencing some immense pleasure? The crowd had no problem with it, throwing out dollar bills or more whenever he had some kind of fake orgasm.

Well… it was still work, wasn’t it? Inigo assuring Gerome that he treated it purely as a job had helped him out last time, but watching him again now… he was either employee of the year or enjoying this a little too much. And he felt  _ sick _ just watching it.

For the first time in his three visits, Gerome finally got a taste of just why they called the art “stripping,” his face going bright red (as if it already wasn’t) when “Bullseye” grabbed a hold of Inigo’s shirt and ripped it open, causing a few buttons to go flying. Even though it was just fabric, he moaned as if the action was sexual in itself, earning a good number of hoots and hollers from his admirers. The shirt was stripped from his shoulders and thrown to the back of the stage, leaving him now only in a hat, gloves, and risque pants.

The emotions swirling in Gerome's stomach were something he was unfamiliar with altogether. Seeing the man run his hands all up and down Inigo's body and dipping into his pants, he felt disgusted. It felt vile and gross and... And watching Inigo's face change, and his body move, Gerome was ashamed to find himself turned on, though not entirely hard just yet. If he took the other man out of the picture, he could stand the show. Although he hated to admit it, he quite enjoyed his friend's "performances," being the horribly embarrassing and downright horny teenage boy he was. If Inigo ever found out... he couldn't imagine the teasing he would receive.

A loud roar from the crowd brought Gerome out of his thoughts and drew his attention back to the stage. That Bullseye fellow was making another move, fingers teasing the edge of Inigo's pants and inching them down. He rolled his hips as his pants were brought lower, grinning wide as dark hands made a show of grabbing and fondling the bulge in the front of his pants.

Gerome was red from head to toe. He was hot all over, feeling as if the building itself was on fire from his own best friend. He'd seen him undress before in the locker room or if they had to change clothes at each other's houses. Hell, he'd even seen his dick before--albeit when they were much younger. But it was dick nonetheless.

Speaking of, Gerome slid a hand to the front of his own pants. Just as he feared, there was a prominent tent standing proud and tall and waiting to be pointed out and ridiculed. He felt his face burn more from rage--why did it work? Why had he actually been right? Life would be so much easier if porn worked, and if he became some sleazebag who needed to do it with other people to get off... he'd never get any.

His teenage heart sunk in his chest, only to jump right back up when he saw the top of Inigo's shorts hit the ground.

He couldn't do this.

_ He had to get out. _

Without waiting another moment to see his best friend's dick, Gerome bolted, pushing people aside as he quickly hurdled his way over booths and out of the men's section. He avoided glancing at any of the women on stage as he weaved his way through the grimy men and heavy air of sweat.

He couldn't do this. Even if it was to keep from being impotent, it couldn't be Inigo.

He couldn't objectify his best friend. Not when he already knew that what he felt was... more. Inigo deserved better than him.

The outside air hit Gerome like a tidal wave, nearly sending him back into the building from the force of it all. This was the third time he had entered and left this place so quickly, not even staying for an hour before he was bolting out the door. The worst part was probably the fact he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

But on the bright side, he hadn't gotten Inigo's attention this time. The other never knew that he had come, didn't have to find out at all that he had shown up at his friend's work place to watch him take off his clothes willingly.

And yet... he couldn't return home.

He could make up an excuse. 'Hey, I decided I wanted to hang out, so instead of checking out your house or calling your phone, I came to your whorehouse to pick you up.' It was flawless. Gerome brought his car around until he found Inigo's in the back and parked next to it, settling on waiting until he got off work to go and do... something. 

Gerome pulled out his phone to do something in the meantime. It was only 10PM, and he hadn’t particularly checked when this place closed, but he couldn’t assume very early. It was a Friday as well, meaning Inigo had an excuse to work late if his parents were to ask--which meant to say he definitely did. Suddenly all the previous plans canceled the past few months were making sense, and the idea that it was because he was coming to some sleazy strip joint to remove his clothes for gross men and debauched women--no, no, he had to find something else to think about. Maybe something that wasn’t Inigo, since that topic was getting him worked up lately.

There were a few messages in their friends’ group chat. It was mostly Yarne confirming any homework they had from a class earlier, Noire sending him her notes before Owain started his own conversation about plans for the rest of the weekend. Kjelle and Severa both agreed to hang out, while Brady was busy in the morning but could come after practice with his mother. Naturally, Laurent was reluctant, though Gerome assumed it was more for the facade of seeming busy than actually doing anything, while Nah and Cynthia agreed without hesitation. Lucina texted for herself and Morgan who appeared to be with her at the time seeing some kind of movie.

Without replying to the messages, Gerome set his phone back down. For some reason he felt… guilty, seeing them interact while he and Inigo were here. It wasn’t because they were keeping secrets from them--hell, he was sure that if they both told their friends what was going on, there would be no more than a bit of teasing before they were back to normal. And if Gerome made it clear that his sexuality was truly a sensitive topic, then he had no doubt in his mind that they wouldn’t make fun of him for it. Lucina would have anyone’s head who tried to make her brother uncomfortable, as well.

They really did have such wonderful friends… and Gerome loved them all, truly. Even if he didn’t tell them all very often. They all met at varying ages in their youth, with Yarne being the last Gerome met at a mere age of eight. They had all been inseparable ever since, the large group they were. Apparently it wasn’t so common to remain so tight with such a vast, large group of people for so long. But it seemed entirely natural to him; they all just… worked together. It was a diverse, strong group.

He felt horrible that he was doing this to them, even though he couldn’t place what “this” was just yet. He didn’t feel guilty about being gay at all. While it would get some inevitable teasing, he knew they wouldn’t judge him for being here with Inigo if he gave the excuse of picking him up from work.

But… he really wasn’t picking him up from work, was he? 

By now his hard on had at least calmed down to where he didn’t feel entirely ashamed of himself thinking about his friends. Gerome hadn’t come here with pure intentions. He didn’t come here to see men, either.

Gerome brought his legs up to his chest childishly, burrowing his red face into his knees.

It was all about Inigo.

Not being able to get it up to porn was just an excuse, wasn’t it? Just how being mean to him at school was just a method of getting his attention, wasn’t it?

He was really horrible. This entire time, hadn’t he just been playing Inigo to react how he wanted? He’d known the boy for years, of course they knew everything about each other, and how they acted. But to actually borderline manipulate his emotions--especially the last time he came here, criticizing him… he was the worst. And that’s what he could never let his friends know.

Gerome felt like he should apologize somehow, but there was no way he could explain everything to him. That was a suicide mission in itself. All there really was left to do was wait for Inigo to get out, recognize his car, run over and embarrass him to death… and likely get nothing done. Just as usual. Honestly, if he could just be more honest, just a little more honest with himself--

“Get your hands off of me!”

Even through the closed car door, Gerome could hear a sudden commotion behind him quite clearly. A couple other voices, much lower, gave angry shouts and a couple of crashes--right, he hadn’t really considered that this place would, of course, be the site of many fights… he glanced in his rear view mirror to get a glimpse of what was going on.

He inhaled a sharp breath, taking no time to throw the car door open (thankfully no one was parked to his right) and run to the herd of men behind the building. There was about four of them, three he didn’t recognize and one he knew  _ all too well _ .

“Inigo!” Gerome called out, gaining the other’s attention from behind a thick wall of men. He could see the boy’s eyes widen considerably, his expression a mixture of confusion and happiness.

“Gerome--?”

He had been so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even notice the other come outside, much less the men with him. They appeared to be usual, run of the mill thugs, the scene looking like something straight out of a drama. If this was how he thought things were going well--Gerome wasn’t really that good at fighting outside of video games. Between the two of them, Inigo (now dressed in casual clothing) being their target and Gerome unable to fight back, things didn’t look good.

One stepped up, and only then Gerome noticed they were about the same height. “What do you want, kid?” Right, they did look a bit older, weren’t they… and much more muscular as well. He had thought the only guys pathetic enough to come to strip clubs were gross, slobby old men. So much for that.

Gerome adjusted his posture to stand a bit taller, readjusting the mask on his face higher up. One of the three gave a small laugh as he did. “I’m… here to pick up--” He exchanged a quick look with Inigo, his resolve set. “My boyfriend.”

It was hard to focus between the four faces in front of them, the thugs’ eyebrows going up in interest while Inigo’s went bright red. He would have to apologize later if this didn’t work out. It gave him enough time to slip his hand into his pocket though, waiting to whip it out and threaten to call 911 if necessary.

“Aw, shit, you kidding me?”

“Man, fuck outta here with that.” 

Gerome had never really believed in a concrete god before.

But after watching as the men took his lie and  _ left _ , chatting to each other about heading back in to check out some other guy inside… it was really looking up for him. The three retreated to the front of the building without seeming phased by the encounter at all, and once they were out of sight he could hear them laughing about something else.

He looked back at Inigo who appeared stunned for words.

“Gerome… what are you  _ doing _ here?” Was the first question out of his mouth. Naturally, hitting right to the heart of the matter. Inigo wasn’t really one for tact, not that Gerome could blame him for not reading his mind.

Unable to face him immediately, Gerome turned back to their cars parked beside each other, nodding at them. “Let’s get in my car before anyone else comes.”

“Uh… sure.”

Gerome hadn’t really thought about the fact that Inigo’s car was here as well, meaning that regardless of how tonight went, they’d have to part ways eventually. The thought was equal parts disappointing and worrying--more for the fact he was disappointed. Exactly what was he expecting from this subconsciously? 

They settled into the backseats of the car just as before, signalling they were just getting in to talk more than anything else. It was a bit too reminiscent of the last time they had to talk in the back of his car, aka, the most humiliating moment of his entire time, rivaled only by the memories of his dragon phase. 

He glanced over to find Inigo was already staring at him with the same look of confusion and relief. At least he didn’t seem upset he was here. Gerome lifted a hand, removing his mask and setting it aside before he spoke.

“Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else to say that would help,” he excused, avoiding the first question purposely.

“Huh? Oh, that’s okay… thank you, those guys were giving me a hard time for not going out with them tonight.” Inigo glanced down at his watch for the time before back at Gerome. Did he have something else going on…? “It’s not the first time it’s happened, but that guy brought two others with him tonight. Usually I can just bluff my way out with some excuse but…”

“I’m glad I was here.” He didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been.

“And speaking of which…”

Shit.

Inigo didn’t even bother finishing the sentence, leaving it in the air for Gerome to pick up as he pleased. Since he had already avoided it twice, his stare was more accusatory than anything, as if suspecting he had some ill intentions by being here or something. It wasn’t often that Inigo got agitated at him legitimately--or at anyone, really. It usually blew over pretty soon. But between them, if it wasn’t over in the night, they wouldn’t be together until weeks had passed.

“I… just felt like it.”

“You’ve got a hard on.”

_ Shit _ .

“Well… who wouldn’t be. That’s what strip clubs are for… of course the effects would get to me.”

“Why did you park next to my car…?”

He wished he had sat in the front seat just to drive away from this altogether.

Gerome fell silent, unable to come up with any answer that would sound any bit normal for a friend to say. He didn’t have an excuse. He hadn’t done anything  _ wrong _ , but his presence was still without any explanation. 

Inigo sighed next to him and slumped back into his seat, arms crossed in exasperation. “Why can’t you ever talk to me anymore, Gerome?”

The question caught him off guard. Talk? Just earlier  _ today _ they had hung out at his house, played video games, studied, gone out to eat… they see each other every day at school. “We do talk…?”

“No, we  _ don’t _ !” Inigo raised his voice as he spoke, surprising Gerome with the contrast from the silent environment. Instead of frustrated, Inigo just looked  _ mad _ now. “Ever since you first came here, we haven’t been able to talk like normal! You always look like something’s bothering you and you won’t ever tell me, even though we’re supposed to be best friends!”

“We  _ are _ best friends, you idiot! Now you’re just sputtering nonsense. I’m just--going through something right now, and it’s--”

“Then why can’t you talk to me about it like we always have?!”

Suddenly, everything was making a lot more sense. Inigo’s hesitation earlier in the day, his pestering more than usual, and now this. Gerome hadn’t really thought about how his actions were affecting him outright and now--well now he had really fucked it up.

There was no easy way out of this one. More than before, this was a much more make or break situation that really had no good answer, and no good excuse. Inigo was still waiting for some kind of response, but was being more patient in waiting for Gerome to think his words out. What should he say in a time like this… what would their friends, Lucina, Owain, anyone do in a time like this? What would Inigo himself do?

Although he hated it, that was his answer.

“Because it’s about you.”

“Then why can’t you talk it out with m--”

Gerome held up his hand as if putting down a small dog. “Just  _ wait _ , Inigo, let me finish.”

Although he didn’t seem pleased by the response, Inigo leaned back, letting Gerome speak.

He continued, speaking slowly to choose his words. “After the first time I came here… I have been thinking about… you, in a way that friends should not think about their… friends. And this has caused me to th--”

“Wait, so  _ that _ ,” a delicate, definitely not crude gesture to Gerome’s tented pants, “is for  _ me _ ?  _ Again? _ ”

“Don’t say it like it’s a gift you idiot!” He gave a groan of irritation, sinking his back against the window with a hand covering his face. Of course Inigo couldn’t make this easy for him. When was anything he did tactful? “It’s not like I want this to happen…”

Ah, there it was again. Looking over his fingers, Gerome watched as Inigo’s face fell the same way it had in the cafe earlier. He looked as if someone had just insulted him--was it an insult for a stripper to hear others didn’t enjoy them or something? Even as he thought the question, Gerome felt ashamed of himself. There was obviously something more going on.

“Of course you wouldn’t want this to happen, huh…”

...what?

“...what?”

He couldn’t really believe anything he was hearing right now. It was a good thing Inigo kept talking, not giving him the time to think extensively. “Even if you are gay, it’s not like you’d want to like your best friend, obviously. Who would?”

“Wait, Inigo, I never said that-”

“Then what  _ are _ you saying?” Inigo raised his voice again, though now he looked more hurt than upset as before. Only now did he noticed his face was also redder than usual, difficult to see in the dark night lighting. “You never say anything outright unless it’s mean!”

“Oh, quiet you, give me a minute to speak!”

It was the first time Gerome had raised his voice all night. But he couldn’t help it. Inigo had never made him feel so--frustrated before, with how he was speaking. And it wasn’t even because he was annoying or pushy or stupid this time. 

It really was now or never.. Without waiting another moment, Gerome made a grab for the mask he had set aside, quickly slapping it onto his face and holding it there.

Even though Inigo couldn’t see from behind his mask, Gerome closed his eyes tightly.

“It’s not that I dislike you, or that I dislike being friends with you. I’ve always been grateful for your friendship all these years and--that’s why this is so troubling. I don’t see you as a  _ friend _ anymore, Inigo. And while I don’t know how to act around you anymore, I can’t just stay away, either! The past few weeks have been driving me crazy, more than you could ever understand!”

That was it. Even if Inigo spoke now, Gerome wasn’t sure he could carry on any more conversation. That was all the emotion, all the embarrassment he could dispense in one night… anything else would have to wait for another day when his face was not burning and still rock ha--

“So… you like me, then…?”

“I said I don’t dislike you.”

“No!” Inigo leaned forward, scooting to the middle seat between them to get close in Gerome’s face. “Like, like-like! Is that what you’re saying?”

“ _ Yes _ , Inigo, for the love of god, I like you, I adore you, what else do you want me to say before you’re satisfied!” He shouted, loud enough that anyone outside was sure to hear. He couldn’t look though. He couldn’t even think about anything else going on right now besides the earth shattering loss of all dignity he’d ever had in this car.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a stunned, bright red face a foot away from his. Inigo was actually rendered speechless, for once in his life, the shock of which making Gerome unable to speak either. They were left staring at each other, both with comically red faces, cramped in the back of his car outside a strip club. Perhaps this wasn’t the most romantic way to have gone about doing this… and definitely not how they would tell the story later.

“...me too.”

“...what?”

Slowly and then all at once, Inigo’s face broke into a smile. It wasn’t one of his usual, cheery friend smiles either--it was genuine and the happiest he’d seen him in a while. “I’ve liked you for  _ years _ , Gerome--well, more like months, since I didn’t know I was bi, but if I had known years ago it would have explained a lot.”

If he could say anything, he would. But all that was coming out of Gerome’s mouth were embarrassing “uh”s and “what”s of confusion. This wasn’t actually happening, things like this didn’t just…  _ happen _ .

“And take that stupid mask off, too!” Before Gerome could stop him, Inigo’s hands were on his face, yanking the batman-esque mask from him and tossing it unceremoniously on the floor. Gerome was left in the open now, completely vulnerable for Inigo to torment and make fun of for looking and acting so stupid after saying such embarrassing things. But this time, Inigo kept quiet, staring at him expectantly as if he were waiting for Gerome to say something. Which made sense. Since Inigo just confessed. Confessed? Confessed.

Inigo.  _ Wow _ .

“So… what now?”

“...aren’t you supposed to know?”

“You’re the stripper.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve done this before!”

“You  _ know _ I haven’t either!”

All at once, the silence that had been surrounding the car seemed to fade. Suddenly Gerome could hear the vehicles on the highway nearby speeding past, the people in the parking lot on the other side of the building talking, and some distant music from another truck. He could  _ also _ hear Inigo’s bickering alongside his own, something that shouldn’t comfort him as much as it did right now. 

Even if the topic was different… this was normal.

“What are you grinning about now?”

He hadn’t even realized he was smiling. As if on instinct, he dropped back into a neutral frown, though it softened immediately. “Nothing… hey, c-come here for a second.”

Lifting a brow, Inigo complied, scooting forward until their legs were touching. This is what happened when two people liked each other, right? You confess, and then you... As if knowing what Gerome was trying to do, Inigo clenched his eyes shut as if in pain. Gerome kind of hated that they were both this predictable... but there was no stopping halfway. 

He cautiously extended a hand to brush the side of Inigo's cheek. His skin was so soft for a man's... nothing he had ever expected. How did people do this again? Gerome lifted his other hand to hold his shoulder, slowly leaning in to... s-slowly...

After years of waiting, Gerome finally broke down everything that had been built between them, pressing his lips shyly to Inigo’s own, just for a few seconds. His experience here was next to none, save for kisses on the cheek when he was young to his parents. He had never been ashamed of his lack of experience until he pulled away. Inigo cocked a brow quizzically, signalling he had already done something wrong.

This bastard. “...that’s all?”

“...it didn’t feel like anything.”

“Because you didn’t  _ do _ anything!” Inigo threw his hands up in exasperation, landing them on Gerome’s shoulders before scooting even closer. He might as well be sitting on his lap now.

Gerome furrowed his brows together. “Like  _ you’ve _ got a lot of experience?”

“More than you.”

He couldn’t argue there. Who knows what Inigo had done with the few girlfriends he’d gotten, or worse, what he had done at his work on stage.

Gerome quickly erased the thought from his mind, leaning back in to try kissing him again. This time, Inigo took initiative, moving and opening his lips against Gerome’s prude ones. It took a couple yanks on Gerome’s shirt for him to actually do something, and he gave a very tentative, gentle tug on Inigo’s lips with his own. Apparently it had done something right, seeing as Inigo gave a small sigh bordering on a moan. It was enough to convince Gerome to continue experimenting, his arms circling around Inigo’s waist while they began slowly moving their bodies against each other.

He had spent years staring at his best friend from afar, wondering if something was wrong with him for wanting to hold his hand outside of their childhood years. Or trying to separate himself with other friends because he got frustrated whenever he saw Inigo flirting with some girl around school. Or buying a futon just so Inigo wouldn’t keep trying to sleep in the same bed when he stayed the night, because “we’ve known each other forever, dude, what’s the big deal?”

This was the big deal. Gerome pulled Inigo farther onto his lap until their chests were pressed against each other. Finally feeling some confidence, he pulled away, ignoring Inigo’s confused face as he ducked down to kiss his neck. The reaction was immediate, Inigo tipping his head back with a whispered “ah” that satisfied Gerome more than it probably should.

Dozens if not hundreds of people had seen Inigo undress himself on stage and press himself against other men. But this, this boy in his arms right now, moaning with every amateur bite that was a little too hard against his neck--this was all Gerome’s. He had never known he was so possessive until the idea arose that he wouldn’t be the only one to see Inigo like this, this vulnerable side of him that fulfilled every lust and horny teenage dream he’d ever had.

Did any of those other men and women know anything else about him? Did they know the struggle he’d gone through as a child to be social, the hard practice he committed himself to every day, the intelligence hiding behind his silly facade, his loyalty, his passion, his ambition--

“Gerome--ouch! Gerome, that hurts!”

“Oh… sorry.” Gerome pulled back, impressed with himself once he could see the field of bright red flowers blooming over Inigo’s neck. He didn’t know he had it in him… Inigo was slightly out of breath and leaned forward to rest his face into the crook of Gerome’s neck, though he didn’t bother kissing him as Gerome had.

“We… maybe we should go somewhere else.” Inigo gave a small roll of his hips against Gerome’s, earning a hiss from them both. The elder was just as hard as before if not more, and with Inigo draping his arms around his neck while rocking against him, he wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer and steer them home--or to some hotel--or fuck, even the middle of nowhere would be fine. There was just one thing stopping them, though.

“...I would, but we can’t leave your car.”

Inigo whispered a small “shit” out of irritation, not having gotten that far in his thinking. “We could drive separately, but… after waiting for you this long,” he nuzzled his face into his neck, “I don’t want to be apart for another minute.”

He would kill Gerome with that kind of talk. Who gave Inigo permission to be, god forbid,  _ cute _ ? Gerome hated himself for even thinking so, but didn’t stop himself from hugging the boy tightly to his chest in response. He couldn’t deny he felt the same. After all, this was his first time with a man or anyone at all, and they were changing over a decade’s worth of relationship between them now. “...me neither.”

“Maybe… we could help each other here?”

Gerome’s mouth went dry. This couldn’t really be happening, not this fast, and not here of all places. But when he thought more about what Inigo said--how he couldn’t be apart for another minute, he really was the same.

He gave it another second of thought, fingers curling in the shirt on Inigo’s back. Would he regret this later? His first experience with all of this in the backseat of his trashed car, behind a strip club; it didn’t sound like anything he had expected of himself before. He had anticipated awkwardness, for sure, but these sets of circumstances were beyond imagination.

Then again, he could have never thought Inigo was a stripper also, and yet here they were.

Knowing he would fuck up if verbal, Gerome gave a simple nod against Inigo’s shoulder. He felt the arms around his neck tighten, and reciprocated with his own around Inigo’s waist. He was probably just as nervous, too.

“...should I start?” Gerome offered quietly, not knowing what else to do since neither of them were moving. Almost immediately, Inigo pulled back with his hands on Gerome’s shoulders, shaking his head fiercely.

“No, I want to. So just… sit back for a little bit.”

Inigo stared tentatively at Gerome’s crotch, bringing a hand down to ghost over the tent before stroking it hesitantly. Gerome’s reaction was immediate. He sucked in a sharp gasp, legs twitching from the sudden sensation. To think he couldn’t even get himself up earlier tonight and now just this was about to make him come. He expected Inigo to make some sly comment about how excited he was already, but found no words coming from his mouth at all. In fact, Inigo’s face seemed even redder than before, if it were possible.

It was his first time too, as hard as it was to believe with how he acted on stage.

Inigo’s fingers began working away at the zipper of Gerome’s pants, having to wait for the other to lift his hips so he could slide his pants down. It was embarrassing how hard he was and how fast they were moving, having been fighting just a while ago. But that was unimportant now--all he had to think about was Inigo, and at the moment, that wasn’t very difficult when his head was full of every little part of him.

As Inigo reached for his underwear, Gerome quickly swatted as his hand. “Wait, wait…”

Inigo’s eyes shot up to meet the other’s, his face struck with concern. “Wh--Did you change your mind?” 

Gerome could tell Inigo was trying to be considerate, and he appreciated that, but the disappointment in his voice was heavy enough to guilt trip anyone. “No, it’s not that… just… could you--take off your shirt?”

Ah, he really wished he hadn’t said anything as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Inigo stared at him blankly, stunned, before his face broke out into a grin. He didn’t say anything, but scooted just an inch back on Gerome’s legs before grabbing his hands. “Hold my hips,” he commanded, having to pull Gerome’s shaky hands to his sides for him and pressing them there firmly. “I’ve always wanted to try doing this, but, uh, I decided to at least save this…”

As soon as Inigo started moving his hips, Gerome realized what was going on, and his mouth fell open. 

“Spread your legs a little.”

“There isn’t a lot of room… hold on.” Gerome grabbed Inigo by the waist again to readjust their positions, turning to face the seat in front of him with Inigo planted firmly on his lap. When he finally could, he spread his legs apart a bit, though it was Inigo who yanked them apart for him.

“Now… wait, actually, hold on.”

They were going to be here a while.

“Can you grab my phone? I put it in my back pocket… yeah, thanks! Do you have like an aux cord or anything… whaaat, no, don’t turn it on. I’ll just turn the volume all the way up… It’s weird if there’s no music… this song’s too slow… I don’t want to associate this song with this… oh this one’s my ringtone, it’ll be weird… here!”

After minutes of shuffling around with his phone, Inigo finally settled on a song and turned the volume as high as it would go before throwing the device to the side. 

“It’s hard to move if there’s no beat, you know, don’t look at me like that!”

Gerome was afraid if nothing happened in the next minute he’d lose whatever erection he had going. Thankfully, Inigo began to move, swinging his legs over one of Gerome’s and straddling his thigh instead now. 

It was like a spell had been cast on him, how his face changed as soon as he got started. Instead of the blushing, nervous boy that had been here before, Gerome could only recognize that same man that swung his body around a pole for other’s enjoyment. Inigo’s eyes were cast down, though he could find them peering up at Gerome through thick, mascara covered lashes. His lips were parted, a tongue occasionally darting out to lick his lips before giving a prolonged sigh.

As beautiful and mysterious as his face was, Gerome couldn’t ignore everything  _ else _ going on too. Inigo continued to grind his crotch down on Gerome’s thigh, pulling up on his front then pushing back on his rear. Every now and then he’d give a small swing, practiced motions sending Gerome’s reason out the window.

Inigo eventually stopped, though only for a brief minute to get up in the cramped space they were confined in to turn himself around. When he settled back down, it was with his back to Gerome’s face, surprising the latter immensely. Gerome wanted to say something, anything, but found himself speechless as Inigo started up again. His hands had nowhere to go now, leaving him with them up in the air awkwardly as he tried to make heads or tails of what was happening.

Inigo leaned as far forward as he could, holding onto the headrest of the seat in front of them as he stuck his ass back out to Gerome. He gave a couple of grinds down on his lap before dragging back up, legs spread over Gerome’s thighs scandalously. It took the elder a minute to realize that he was moving in tune with the music, and with every beat of the electro song, Inigo would snap his hips down where it counted. Every drawn out note had Inigo sliding up Gerome’s lap before returning to his seat over his still clothed dick.

He heard Inigo say something, though his words were lost over the music and his own thoughts. “What did you say?”

“You can touch me… if you want.”

He definitely did.

With shaking hands, Gerome reached out for Inigo’s back, lightly grazing the hem of his shirt. This had all started because he had asked him to take it off… he might as well start there. He pushed the fabric up enough to get his fingers under, lightly grazing the warm skin beneath. Inigo really was smooth all over… Deciding to be bold, Gerome pressed both of his palms against his side entirely and slid them around to Inigo’s front. He could hear a small gasp from the other at the touch, and Inigo must have been just as surprised as Gerome was at himself. But if Inigo could be this…  _ forward _ , then so could he.

Gerome ran his hands along the curves of Inigo’s abs, sliding up to his chest, his collarbones, and back down. All the while, Inigo was still dancing on top of him, though it was reduced more to rolling his hips in Gerome’s lap since he couldn’t lean forward as much like this. When Gerome felt the catch of Inigo’s nipples against his palms, he threw away his shame once and for all. Gerome rolled each bud between his index finger and thumb, earning a much more prominent moan from Inigo as the latter began to lean back. Gerome had experimented on himself before and never felt much, but Inigo seemed to be much more sensitive all over than he was… which was definitely in his favor.

Taking his hands out of Inigo’s shirt, Gerome made quick work of removing the article of clothing from him and tossing it to the back of the car where his pants had landed earlier. Now he could see the expanse of Inigo’s muscular back entirely, the enticing curve of his shoulders, the length of his neck, and all the marks he had left there before. Inigo’s movements gradually slowed until he cast a small glance over his shoulder at Gerome, as if asking “is everything still okay?”

He was beautiful. And irresistible. Without waiting another moment, Gerome lurched forward, catching Inigo’s shoulder with his teeth roughly. He couldn’t help the small growl that snuck out, though the gasp that fell into an elongated moan was much louder. “God, Gerome…” Inigo whispered, leaning entirely against his chest. “You’re amazing…”

“Says you,” he mumbled against his flesh before returning to his work. With better access, it was much easier for Gerome to bite, lick,  _ gnaw _ at more skin, faster. He felt like he only had a limited amount of time to be with him here and hastily pressed deep bite marks into every piece of skin he could reach, each earning a pitched breath or yelp from Inigo as he did so. By now, Inigo had almost stopped moving entirely, only grinding his ass back when Gerome bit him especially hard. Hands roamed over his chest all the while and would occasionally stop over his nipples to pinch or twist at them before returning to stroking him all over.

All doubts that he had before were completely gone, the only things that mattered now were Inigo and the intoxicating heat between him. He couldn’t get enough of him, of the smoothness of his body, his muscle, his smell he’d never thought twice about now making him drunk. It was all too much while being somehow not enough at the same time. Finally, Gerome reached lower, hand snaking over Inigo’s pants to cup the now prominent bulge in his pants. 

As he gave an experimental squeeze, Inigo’s back arched forward, his head tipped back over Gerome’s shoulder. “ _ Oh _ … god, Gerome…”

He shushed the dancer in his hold, now feeling confident enough to take a more initiative role. With Inigo leaning back against him, he had better access to the side of his neck and took advantage of the angle to continue kissing spots he had left undamaged there. By the time he left, Inigo would be red and purple all over--and that was  _ thrilling  _ to think about. 

Gerome was secretly ecstatic that Inigo was this worked up without even having taken off his pants, but he wasn’t one to talk. There had always been some part in the back of his mind that told him even though Inigo said he didn’t have sex at his work, he somehow knew more about it than Gerome or was more experienced. Now that they were actually here, grinding against each other and fogging up the car door windows, he was no longer worried about disappointing him or leaving the other unsatisfied. Unzipping his pants and sliding a hand into Inigo’s underwear, all concern for his reputation disintegrated. 

Inigo tensed up suddenly, his legs going stiff and fighting the urge to close together. His breath hitched in the middle of an inhale and left him unable to say anything while Gerome pulled his dick out of his pants at long last. As a hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, his own scrambled back, grabbing onto Gerome’s shirt to stay tethered. 

“Gerome,  _ Gerome… _ ” Inigo continued to moan his name between breaths, and the elder boy couldn’t get enough of it. It was enough to keep him working enthusiastically besides knowing nothing about the other’s body. He was lucky enough that, with Inigo sitting on his lap, it was similar to jerking himself off--just much better. After only a few strokes, Gerome brought his hand back up to his face, spitting on his palm over Inigo’s shoulder before continuing to touch him.

“Is… this good?” He stopped himself from saying the word “alright,” trying to remain as confident as possible. 

Inigo responded immediately and nodded, again and again. “Yeah… real good. Keep going.”

It was as if Gerome speaking was enough to break Inigo out of some trance he had been in, seeing as once he answered, Inigo continued moving as well. His phone had since changed songs a couple of times without their noticing, though thankfully was on a playlist appropriate for what they were doing. After a few jerky movements, Inigo found himself back in touch with the beat, jerking up into Gerome’s hand and grinding back down on his still clothed cock. The unexpected sensation made Gerome groan, his free hand joining his other to twist up and down on Inigo’s cock as payback.

They settled into their own rhythm in time, Gerome stroking Inigo off while the latter moved his hips in circles over him. It didn’t last very long, however, as they both began to near the end, their movements became more erratic. Gerome eventually bucked back up against Inigo’s ass until the stripper was simply bouncing on top of him, fucking without removing their clothes. While Gerome tried to keep himself quiet, breathing harshly, Inigo was much more verbal, his lover’s name spilling out of his mouth as if a dam had been broken.

“Gerome--Gerome, I’m gonna come, don’t stop…!” 

“...god… Inigo…!”

Inigo came loudly, grinding down on Gerome as much as he could while howling something between his name and a prayer. He spilled across his own chest and Gerome’s hands both, and it was much more than he could ever remember having cum on his own before. 

As he came down from his high, his breath didn’t return, rendering him speechless as he slouched back against Gerome. They were both a mess. Inigo hadn’t realized he had been so sweaty, and now he had to clean up this mess and pull up his pants, and Gerome was still--

“Oh! I’m--sorry, you need to-”

“Don’t move,” Gerome quickly stopped him, hands clamping down on Inigo’s bare hips to keep him there. “Just… stay right there.” Inigo didn’t realize until just then that Gerome was still moving, rolling his hips up against Inigo’s ass even though the other had already come. He could hear him panting against his back, small grunts mixed between until Inigo disobeyed him and began to roll back against him, turning his noises into repressed groans.

Within a few minutes, Gerome stilled, voice dropping an octave as he let out a low growl in Inigo’s ear.

He fell back into his seat moments later, signalling the end.

Inigo got up and tried to move off of him until Gerome pulled him back into his lap, this time facing each other. They were both short of breath and panting, and eye contact somehow made this feel more intimate than everything else they had just done.

"I... really like you," Inigo repeated once his breathing returned to normal. 

Gerome nodded, albeit shyly. "...I do, too. I like you, too." 

Inigo's smile afterwards made his heart melt and grow a thousand times. "I'm so happy... This is the best night  _ ever _ ." As he said so, he sprang forward, arms wringing Gerome's neck in another tight embrace. 

Gerome returned the hug, albeit less clingy, and inhaled deeply.

Everything… had worked out.

* * *

 

It turns out that everything wasn’t all that worked out. 

Almost immediately after they came out of their post coital bliss, the reality of the situation came crashing down. This included issues such as Inigo’s jizz all over his chest and Gerome’s now sticky boxers that he had to take off altogether. Not to mention they parted awkwardly, waiting until Gerome had fully convinced Inigo that they would meet up tomorrow as soon as possible before the dancer finally left his car and drove away in his own.

Gerome drove home in a daze, barely paying any attention to the road and nearly rear ending a few vehicles. Inigo liked him back, and they had... yeah. Yeah. His heart beat faster than usual the more he thought about it. If this was a dream, he was just fine with never waking up.

The next morning when he did wake up, it was to the sound of his phone ringing for five minutes straight. Gerome snatched it up with a groan, upset to have been woken up, before reading the caller ID. 

"What do you want?"

“Good morning to you too, Gerome,” Lucina began, trying not to sound agitated. It wasn’t very often Lucina called, seeing as although they were all friends, she and he had no special relationship. If anything she would only do so to confirm plans or ask about her brother--

Shit.

“Before you say anything, I’d like to discuss with you the details of your arrangement with Inigo…”

Gerome shot up out of his bed. “He told you!?”

“I saw how he was acting last night and there was only one explanation. Now we’re going to have to set some rules in place--”

Without even thinking, he hung up. 

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since what happened, and he was already being cornered like this… What arrangement was there to discuss? They had been best friends for over ten years, it wasn’t as if Gerome would have to relearn everything about him. They knew how each other worked, how their moods fluctuated, being able to tell when they were upset, sad… It’s why they went so well together, or rather, why Inigo was the only person Gerome could stand being with.

It wasn’t until Gerome hung up on Lucina did he notice she wasn’t the only one who had been contacting him. He had ten messages in his inbox, though seven were from Lucina telling him to pick up his phone, with the other three being from Inigo. 

**Inigo [09:34:22]** : gerome lets meet up today! I wanna show u something cool tht severa showed me

**Inigo [09:40:36]** : GEROME wake up!!! I woke up early just to talk to u come on

**Inigo [09:58:48]** : LUCINA KNOWS. IM RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME TO UR PLACE. DONT ANSWER HER!!!

The last message had been sent at 9:58, and glancing at his clock, it was currently 10:07. It was a wonder that Inigo wouldn’t have made it to his house yet if he said he was running away, but there was also a good chance he had been stopped in the middle by his protective older sister. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had never snuck out of his house before in the dead of night; he was rather experienced. 

Actually, if Inigo was sneaking out, there’s no way he’d be able to take a car. Which meant he was  _ walking _ here.

Gerome sighed as he finally began to dress himself, making his way downstairs without breakfast and going straight for the car. Here he had wanted to spend the morning relaxing from all the energy he had spent the night before. He supposed that was impossible if he was with Inigo now.

What did “with” even mean, though? Gerome pulled out of the neighborhood, heading in the direction of Inigo’s house with his eyes on the sidewalk for a stray teenage boy. They hadn’t done much else besides confess their feelings and… do all of that. They hadn’t cleared up if they were some higher level of friends, or friends with benefits, or d… dat…

He turned the radio volume all the way up. Their houses weren’t particularly far from each other, thankfully, so he couldn’t expect Inigo was too far away. There was also the chance he hadn’t even made it out of his house anyways and was being held captive by his sister. It had sounded like even Lucina knew more about their “arrangement” than Gerome himself did, which was no doubt concerning. The last time Inigo expressed serious interest in a girl, she had scared the poor soul almost out of school. Ever since then, he kept his legitimate pursuits under covers.

A moving spot in the corner of his eye quickly caught his attention. Sure enough, a familiar figure wearing a dirty sweatshirt and pants for pajamas was meandering along the sidewalk. He hadn’t even taken the time to get changed… Gerome shook his head, not surprised, and began to pull over with a small honk of his horn to get the boy’s attention.

Inigo’s face lit up like a christmas tree.

He could hear him yell his name, muffled by the windows before he sprinted to the car, jumping in with such enthusiasm the vehicle shook. “You even came to pick me up!” Inigo beamed while throwing off his shoes and tossing them to the backseat. He sure made himself comfortable fast… Gerome gave a tired grunt in reply as he started the car back up, not realizing Inigo was staring at him until the silence became uncharacteristic. “And without your mask, too.”

“Because you bothered me so early in the morning. Where’s your clothes?”

“Back at home, I had to run.” He let out a sigh, sinking down in his seat overdramatically. “Ever since I got home last night, Lucina wouldn’t leave me alone. And when she saw me texting you this morning, she went  _ crazy _ . I had to leave just so she wouldn’t tie me down and interrogate me!”

“Hm,” Gerome acknowledged curtly. Using his other hand, he grabbed his phone from the console; five messages and three calls. “You know my house is the first place she’ll look for you, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I’d rather talk to her while you’re there, too.”

Fair enough. Inigo was probably in the same situation without having come up with concrete explanation of what happened last night. Gerome’s hand curled tightly around the steering wheel; even though Inigo was acting the same as he always did, why was he so nervous? It could be a sign that he regretted what happened and was trying to move on without saying anything. It would probably be easy to act as if nothing had happened, to return to normal and let everything they said and did remain in the background.

No, that wasn’t how he should be thinking.

He already made his mind up long ago.

Gerome took a deep breath. “What should we tell her?”

It was impossible to get a good look at Inigo’s expression since he was driving, only able to catch small glances at him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t answer immediately, allowing another wave of silence to move in between him. Perhaps he should have waited until they got back to his house to bring this up--but how could he not, when it was undoubtedly weighing heavily on both of their minds?

Without a word, Inigo reached over, placing his hand on top of Gerome’s fist resting on the console.

“Couldn’t we just say… we’re together?”

Inigo’s voice was much quieter than before, as if his attempts at brushing everything off for the moment had come crashing back down. This nervousness, this hesitation was how he really felt about everything… a rare, honest Inigo who was too shy to say his feelings outright.

Gerome had already made his decision. He flipped his hand over, losing contact with Inigo for only a moment before lacing their fingers together. He made his decision a long time ago.

“We’re dating.”


End file.
